Barrow Fields death becomes you

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The coast had become her home, a place where she could rest and worry little about what might happen to her; she was cautious, still, about those she shared a home with and often avoided them for lack of a way to approach with confidence. She missed the mountains at times—her mother, too—but was never daring enough to climb the high peaks and locate the dragon’s looking glass. She was content there, living near to the sea, and being where her family was not. And yet, she ventured out beyond their claim, wandering paws carrying her towards a familiar expanse of land that she was most displeased to see. The child was a curious one, however, and gradually becoming bolder, and so she continued into the land of false eyes with the hope that courage might find her—

—it didn’t.

Every hair that covered her dorsal rose, enticed by fear and overall discomfort. She did not like the area, did not find any peace in confronting her fears—what she did find, however, was a beast of a wolf. The sounds he made reached her ears before the mountain that was his body entered her line of sight, and she immediately stopped. How he tore at the creature, the way blood clung to his lips, unsettled her greatly—she realised her mistake in having ventured out on her own. The yearling was quick with her attempt at returning whence she’d come, but the world was a cruel, mischievous place and she found herself tripped up by a hole in the dirt. A sharp yelp slipped past her lips as she twisted around and fell down, startled and now aching.

And there she froze, wide-eyed and weary whilst her head turned to regard the dark force with unmasked worry and hope.